


For the Thousandth Time

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Driving, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fanart, Feelings Realization, M/M, Nature, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Spells & Enchantments, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Draco's wand refuses to work after the war, he turns to Harry for help.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 36
Kudos: 155
Collections: Anonymous, HD Wireless 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, thank you so much to the wonderful mods at HD Wireless! It was a joy to be able to participate in this incredible fest!
> 
> Mehr, I can't begin to thank you enough for creating such a stunning companion work of art. Without you, my fic wouldn't have been able to come to life the way it did. It was an absolute pleasure to be able to work with you, and I'm so grateful. Thank you so much for putting so much time, effort, and energy into creating something that you really hadn't planned on, and I appreciate it so much.
> 
> To my beta, I, thank you so much for helping me last minute. This fic wouldn't be nearly as polished without you, and you really helped me along!
> 
> And, finally, to my cheerleader Emma. Thank you so much for always cheering me on. I live for your reactions to my stories. You are who I write for, and I love you so much.
> 
> I chose to do a self prompt, and I went with the song "Lucky" by Aurora. I feel like it perfectly matches post-battle vibes and hope for the future.

Draco looked around nervously, fiddling with the middle button of his shirt. The small, shabby house in front of him was brick colored, standing out against the drab overcast sky. Next to the front door, which was painted a stark white, was a windowsill filled with small succulents. It sat atop a mossy green hill in what Draco could only describe as the middle of bloody nowhere, white wildflowers dotting the grounds for as far as he could see. To the side of the house rested a boxy, beat up Muggle car. The June air was sticky, warm, and suffocating.

A slight breeze rolled across the hill, gripping Draco’s neatly trimmed hair, which curled slightly behind his ears. He drank in the gust of wind, hoping that the coolness would somehow keep him calm.

Before he could lose his nerve, he knocked abruptly against the door and attempted to swallow the fear that kept crawling up his throat. He heard footsteps nearing the door, so he took what remaining seconds he had to straighten his shirt and take a large breath.

The front door swung open, and there stood Harry. He looked the same, which surprised Draco. Harry’s thick, wavy hair was as messy as ever, falling in layers down to the top of his earlobes, and he was just as lanky as he had been a month ago. The only thing Draco noticed to be slightly different was the coloring of the scar, which began at his right temple and cut across to his left cheekbone. The last time Draco had seen Harry, his scar had been a burnt red. Now, though, only white lines were visible, raised against his golden brown skin.

Pulling himself together, Draco raised the envelope clutched in his hand and waved it in the air. “Well?”

Harry gave him a curious look, taking a sip from the mug of tea he was holding. “I see you got my letter.”

Draco huffed, crossing his arms. “Yes, Potter. Great observation. I see you’re as astute as ever. Now, where is it?”

Harry let out a chuckle. “Merlin, you’re in a rush. Come on, through here.”

He held the door open for Draco, who gingerly stepped over the threshold and into the interior of the house, which had been magically expanded. As Harry led him past the open kitchen and into the living room, Draco noticed that the house was, for the most part, organized. Several stacks of _The Quibbler_ sat neatly on the coffee table and countless photographs of himself, his friends, and what could only be his parents were scattered across the mantelpiece, on top of the windowsills, and hung on the white walls. A Muggle television sat on a stand in the corner of the room, with levitating plants hanging in the air above it.

“What in Merlin’s name possessed you to purchase such a small house?” Draco asked, frowning as he looked around.

“I don’t like big houses. They make me feel lonely,” Harry said, shrugging. “Oh, can I get you any tea or coffee?”

“You don’t have some grand plan to poison me, do you?” Draco asked cautiously.

“If I were to poison you, I probably wouldn’t tell you,” Harry said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Draco sighed, taking a seat on the burgundy couch. “You’re as intolerable as ever. Tea, please.”

“Coming right up,” Harry said, setting down his own cup of tea before padding to the kitchen.

Draco could hear him putting the kettle on. He took the opportunity to snoop, standing up and walking to the mantlepiece. The first photograph that stood out was one of Harry, Granger, and Weasley from what seemed like fourth year. Harry was in the middle, his arms thrown around Weasley and Granger. They all looked genuinely happy, their smiles reaching their eyes.

“I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was taken the day before the Quidditch World Cup.”

Draco jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice and turned around sheepishly. “Oh.”

Harry walked over to where Draco stood, picking up a frame to the left of the World Cup photo. Pictured was a man who dramatically resembled Harry, glasses and all, and a chubby woman with dark red hair and Harry’s chartreuse eyes, the both of them dancing and laughing.

“These are my parents, James and Lily,” Harry said, smiling softly down at the photograph.

“Ah."

“Anyway,” Harry sighed, “why don’t you sit down? Just let me bring in the tea and I’ll return what you came for. Do you take milk or sugar?”

Relief washed over Draco as he took a seat on the couch. “Both. Four sugar cubes and a dash of milk, please.”

Harry stared at Draco, his mouth slightly agape. “Did you say … _four_ sugar cubes?”

“Yes, Potter. Four,” Draco stated matter-of-factly.

Harry let out a soft laugh before walking back into the kitchen. Soon enough, he returned with Draco’s cup of tea in hand and placed it on the coffee table. It had a Chudley Cannons logo wrapped around the center.

“Chudley Cannons? Really?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, what’s wrong with the Chudley Cannons?” Harry asked, his lips curling into an amused smile as he sat next to Draco.

“Oh, I prefer the Montrose Magpies,” Draco shrugged.

“They’re good, too, but I’m loyal to the Cannons. Ron sucked me into rooting for them, and they’re predicted to not be half-bad in the upcoming season,” Harry explained, raising his mug to his lips.

“Agree to disagree. Now, may I please have my wand back?” Draco asked.

Harry looked taken aback, but he nodded and stood up. “Yeah. Of course. It’s in my bedroom. I’ll be right back.”

Harry disappeared down the hallway before swiftly returning, wand in hand. Draco quickly snatched it out of Harry’s hands and immediately felt the thrumming of magic coming from the unicorn hair core.

“I hope it works for you,” Harry said quietly.

“Thanks for returning it,” Draco mumbled, running his hands over the smooth wood.

“No problem.”

Looking for an excuse to leave, Draco glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. I should be going.”

“Oh. Um, sure,” Harry said, standing up. Draco followed, pointedly not looking at the cup of tea on the coffee table that hadn’t been consumed, and headed towards the small entryway. Draco stepped through the door.

“Thanks for my wand, Potter,” Draco said, glancing back.

Harry crossed his arms, offering Draco a small smile. “No problem.”

Draco, content with everything, retrieved his broom from the side of the house. Mounting it, he squinted into the sun, which reflected off of the clouds above. As he kicked off, he felt a rush course through his veins. He took one last look at the house down below, and he could have sworn he saw Harry waving up at him.


	2. Chapter 2

“Fuck!”

Draco shook his wand; blue sparks sputtering out of the tip, and small curls of smoke floated through the air. He ran a hand through his ashy blond hair, tempted to rip it out by the roots.

This was the seventh day he had been at it with his wand in a desperate attempt to get it to work properly. No matter how many hours he spent on it or how hard he tried, it refused to cooperate.

Draco paced back and forth his bedroom. “Alright. That’s it. Potter must have buggered up my wand, and he’s going to bloody well fix it!”

He dashed down the stairs, briefly shouted at his mother that he was going out, and walked to the broom shed in the back garden. After grabbing his broom, he kicked off into the cool sky, the clouds glowing orange from the setting sun. A crisp summer breeze blew through the thin material of Draco’s button-down shirt and trousers. For a moment - and only a moment - Draco closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of the mid-June wind.

He reached Harry’s house fairly quickly, coming to a smooth stop on the dirt road that ran in front of the house. He dropped his broom next to the car and then promptly marched to the front door, giving it a hard knock.

After a few seconds, Harry opened the door in grey sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He stared at Draco. Draco stared back.

“My fucking wand refuses to work. Fix it,” Draco demanded. He thrust his wand towards Harry, who raised a skeptical eyebrow before taking Draco’s wand.

"Want to come in, then? I was just about to order pizza,” Harry offered. Draco stormed inside, leading himself into the living room. He sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh and crossed his arms angrily. Harry followed, sitting next to him.

“So… about the pizza. Yes or no?” Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes. Fine. Pizza. Whatever.”

“What kind do you want?” Harry inquired.

“Hawaiian, please.”

Harry’s face screwed into a disgusted scowl. “God, you’re one of _those_ people?”

“I’ll have you know that Hawaiian pizza is delicious, Potty,” Draco huffed.

“Great to know, Ferret. I’m going to call in the order. Be right back,” Harry said, turning to leave the living room.

“Wait! What do you mean ‘call in the order?’” Draco asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m getting it from a Muggle place, so I have to order using the telephone,” Harry explained.

“Huh. How does it work?” Draco asked.

Harry gestured for him to stand up, which he did, and followed Harry into the kitchen. On the counter sat a red box with various numbers and symbols on the right half. On the left half was a skinny, rectangular thing made out of a hard material. Draco watched as Harry copied a series of numbers from a menu taped to the wall, punching them into the number pads. As the phone began to ring, Draco startled. Harry lifted the plastic rectangle to his ear, and Draco could hear a click.

“Welcome to Pizza Shack. My name is Mary, and I’ll be helping you today,” a perky woman’s voice said.

“Hi. How are you?” Harry asked into the telephone, and Draco scooted closer.

Mary answered back, “great, thanks. What can I get for you?”

“Uh, I’ll have a medium Hawaiian and a medium mozzarella,” Harry said, covering the bottom of the phone. He asked Draco, “want any garlic bread?” Draco shrugged, and Harry said into the phone, “and garlic bread.”

“Sure. Anything else for you?” The woman asked.

“Oh! And two Diet Cokes. That’s it,” Harry said.

The woman repeated back the order to confirm it, and then she asked for Harry’s address. After being told how much the order would cost, Harry bid her a goodnight and hung up.

“Now, will you _help_ me fix my wand?” Draco asked, following Harry back into the living room. Night had fallen, and Harry flicked on a floor lamp with his wand before sitting down.

“Malfoy, have you ever considered removing the stick you’ve had up your arse since the day I met you?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Ever think about removing your face?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with your wand?”

“Merlin, what _isn’t_ wrong with my wand? Every time I try to cast a bloody spell, the tip of it starts to smoke. There are … occasionally sparks, and, to be quite honest, I would prefer to not end up like Finnigan,” Draco complained.

“Right. Do any of the spells you cast work?” Harry asked.

“No,” Draco frowned. “Obviously, you’ve done something to my wand.”

Harry sighed, combing a hand through his hair. “When I disarmed you at the Manor, your wand changed allegiance. There’s nothing wrong with it, per say, but it would be like using a wand that doesn’t belong to you. There’s no longer that specific bond."

Draco stood up and began to pace. “You’re not fucking serious. No. Absolutely not. Are you telling me that my wand no longer _likes me_?”

“Uh, kind of?”

“Do you even know if it’s possible to win my wand back?” Draco asked, his cheeks turning red from frustration.

“I asked Ollivander after everything that happened at the Manor. He was the one who explained all of this to me, actually. He said that it’s nearly impossible for a witch or wizard to win back their wand, ” Harry said.

“Fuck. _Fuck!_ What the hell am I going to do? Go the rest of my life without a wand? This is all your fault, Potter.”

“Would you sit down? You’re making me dizzy,” Harry snapped, and Draco sat down with a scowl. “You need to calm down. This isn’t the end of the world. Are you comfortable with wandless magic? We learned it in sixth year.”

Draco glowered. “In case you didn’t notice, I was slightly busy during sixth year.”

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Right. Well then, I can teach you wandless magic. I became pretty good at it when we were on the run.”

“And why would I willingly spend more time with you?” Draco spat.

“Gee, I don’t know, Malfoy. Maybe because you need to learn how to function as a wizard without a wand?” Harry shot back.

Draco rubbed his temples. “Fine, Potter. But this better work.”

“It will. Don’t worry. We can even start tonight after dinner, if you want,” Harry offered.

“Can’t wait,” Draco deadpanned, leaning into the couch. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Draco paid an abnormal amount of attention to a hangnail on his right index finger.

“So, what have you been doing this past month?” Harry asked, filling the empty air.

Draco pulled a face. “What the hell are you doing, Potter?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making small talk,” Harry frowned.

“Great. Just what I need. I suppose I’ve gone flying a lot. And I’ve been seeing Blaise and Pansy quite a bit, too,” Draco shrugged.

“Oh. Aren’t you and Parkinson dating?” Harry asked genuinely.

Draco let out a loud laugh. “What, me and Pansy? Merlin, never. She prefers witches, if you get what I mean. What about you and the Weaselette? Thinking of having ugly, red-headed children anytime soon?”

“Ginny and I actually broke up right after the battle. The war changed the both of us. It was mutual, and I still love her as a friend, but I think we’re both much happier now. I’m pretty sure she’s dating Luna,” Harry shrugged.

“Huh.”

At that, the doorbell rang. Harry abruptly stood up, grabbing his wallet off of the coffee table.

After a minute of polite exchanges with the pizza delivery person, Harry walked back into the living room with two large pizza boxes, a paper bag full of garlic bread, and two plastic bottles, which he miraculously balanced in his arms. He laid everything out on the coffee table.

“Be right back. Just getting plates and napkins. Do you like ketchup with your pizza?” Harry asked.

“Only sick people eat pizza with ketchup,” Draco stated matter-of-factly.

“Rude,” Harry retorted.

After grabbing plates, napkins, and a bottle of ketchup, Harry settled onto the couch next to Draco. They both helped themselves to two slices of pizza and some garlic bread. Draco took a bite of his pizza, rolling his eyes at how good it was.

“Have you ever had Diet Coke?” Harry asked, taking a sip from one of the plastic bottles. Draco shook his head, and Harry handed him the other bottle. He took a sip, and his mouth was met with sweet bubbles.

“This is … good. What is it?” Draco asked, taking another long slurp.

“It’s just a fizzy drink. Muggles drink it,” Harry shrugged.

“Interesting.”

They finished dinner forty minutes later, having filled that time with idle conversation. After they were both done, Harry took the plates into the kitchen, and Draco brought in the leftovers.

“Remember to take yours home,” Harry instructed as he set the dishes in the sink.

“Oh. Thanks,” Draco said, despite knowing he would forget.

They walked back to the living room, and Harry remained standing. Draco followed suit, and they stood opposite each other.

“Alright. Ready to get started?” Harry asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh, I suppose,” Draco said unenthusiastically.

“Okay. Let’s start with something simple, like _Lumos_. Stick your dominant arm out, and have your palm facing up,” Harry said, demonstrating. “Now, I want you to imagine a light inside your veins, travelling down your arm and into the palm of your hand. It should look like this.”

Draco watched as Harry whispered “ _Lumos_.” A small ball of white light appeared, hovering an inch above his palm. Draco’s eyes followed the bobbing light, intimidation settling in.

“Fuck. Right. Okay,” Draco muttered, suddenly feeling very out of his league.

“Your turn. And it’s okay to not get it right away. It took me a lot of practice,” Harry said, gesturing for Draco to give it a go.

Self-conscious, Draco closed his eyes. He stretched out his arm, palm up, and concentrated on any feeling of warmth he could grab onto. “ _Lumos_.” Nothing happened, and he opened his eyes.

“It’s okay. Give it another go, and this time try to imagine the light already in your palm,” Harry encouraged, and Draco nodded.

He closed his eyes, putting everything he had into feeling the light on his hand. He continued like this for the next hour, Harry recommending different techniques that might be useful for him.

“Just one last time, Malfoy. Please,” Harry urged.

“It’s not going to bloody work, Potter,” Draco spat, crimson streaks crawling up his neck.

“It will. I can feel it. Just once more, and then you can be done,” Harry willed.

Draco sighed, giving in. He stretched out his arm and closed his eyes for a final time, envisioning that little ball of light and muttering “ _Lumos_.” Just as he opened his eyes, a few white sparks shot out of his hand, leaving three reasonably sized burn marks on the ceiling.

“You did it! You got the beginning of it!” Harry said, grinning.

“I … I did it!” Draco exclaimed.

“Yes!” Harry shouted, holding his hand up. Draco smacked it with his own, immediately recoiling at the contact of skin.

He cleared his throat, stepping backwards. “Right, well, when should I come back?”

Harry, still smiling, said, “how about tomorrow, say five o’clock?”

“Sure. Uh, thanks for today, by the way,” Draco mumbled.

“No problem. Happy to help,” Harry said, leading him to the front door.

“Alright. Well, goodnight, Potter,” Draco said, walking down the front steps.

“You too, Malfoy. Have a safe flight,” Harry replied.

Draco looked back one last time. Harry leaned against the doorway, a light smile on his lips. He offered a small wave goodbye. Draco raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but he gave a small wave back, nonetheless. As Draco flew home, he couldn’t help but look forward to his next lesson.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco arrived promptly at five o’clock the following evening. The wind wasn’t as strong as it had been the previous day, although it still had enough of a presence to gently roll the thick layer of patchy white clouds across the bright blue sky. The bedraggled car that sat to the side of the house had moved positions, having been re-parked slightly to the left of where it had rested yesterday.

After knocking on the door, Draco rolled up the sleeves of his shirt halfway. Harry came to the door donning a wide smile.

“What kind of use could you possibly have for a Muggle car?” Draco greeted Harry, walking past him and into the living room.

“Well, hello to you too,” Harry said sarcastically, following Draco.

Draco plopped on the couch and crossed his arms. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Merlin, you’re tiring. Well, I guess I just wanted the freedom to go anywhere I wanted without having to fly via broom. I don’t know,” Harry shrugged, sitting down alongside him.

“Where in the hell did you have the time to learn how to drive? From the way I see it, you were always busy pretending to save everyone,” Draco shot, arching an eyebrow.

Harry glared at him. “Gee, thanks. And, I mean, I don’t technically have a license.”

“What’s that?” Draco asked.

“Oh. Well, it’s basically what allows you to legally drive” Harry explained.

“So … You’re driving illegally according to Muggle law?” Draco stammered, his mouth gaping.

“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that look, Malfoy. The fucking war just eneded, alright? I didn’t have time for the technical things,” Harry glowered.

Draco let out a snicker, “You’re telling me that the Chosen One is driving around England in a Muggle car without a driver’s license?”

“Piss off.”

“How the fuck did you even learn how to drive?” Draco asked.

“George, Ron’s older brother, taught me. Mr. Weasley had a Ford Anglia that flew, although Ron and I lost it in 2nd year. He ended up getting it replaced a few years back, and, well, you can guess the rest,” Harry explained sheepishly.

“Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

“Would you like me to teach you wandless magic, or would you rather berate me for something you couldn’t possibly understand?” Harry asked, his voice suddenly hardening. Draco recoiled in response.

“You know what? Fine. Sorry for stepping on your toes, Potter,” Draco spat, standing up.  
He stormed to the front door, ripping it open. As he reached the bottom of the stairs leading down from the front porch, Draco watched the white wildflowers sway drunkenly in the breeze. He picked one, examining the fragility of it between his index finger and thumb.

“Malfoy! Wait!” Harry shouted after him.

Draco whipped around to find Harry leaning against the open front door. “What, Potter?”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his mess of curls. “You … You wanna go on a ride with me?”

Draco frowned. “What, in the car?”

“Yeah. In the car.”

Draco hesitated a moment before replying, “fine, whatever.”

“Let me grab the keys, and I’ll be right there,” Harry said, walking back into the house.

Draco didn’t wait for him, strolling over to the car to examine it. It was a rusted orange color, the paint chipped in some areas. He heard footsteps coming up behind him, but he didn’t turn around.

“Volkswagen Golf GTI,” Harry said, patting the car on the hood. “I bought her from a guy for a worryingly cheap price two weeks ago. She’s not the newest, but she runs pretty well.”

“Exactly how good are you at driving, Potter? If I’m to be breaking the law, I at least want to break it well,” Draco stated.

Harry snorted, walking around to the right side of the car. “Just get in the damn thing.”

They both slid into their seats, Harry going ahead and buckling himself in. Draco simply sat there, unsure of what to do.

“Alright. All buckled up?” Harry asked, turning to Draco.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re referring to,” Draco frowned.

“Oh, shit. Right. Okay, this,” Harry said, reaching over Draco to grab his seatbelt and pull it over him, “is a seatbelt. Every passenger has to wear one while the car is moving.”

“Where’d you learn that? Driving school?” Draco mocked, snickering to himself.

“Ha. ha. Very funny. Okay, I’ve got a place in mind for where we can go. We can practice your wandless magic there,” Harry explained, looking over his shoulder as he reversed the car. Draco latched onto the car door for dear life, not quite trusting of the rumbling sensation of the car’s motor.

As they drove down the dirt path that ran along the front of the house, Harry said, “you can roll your window down, you know. Just crank the handle.”

Draco looked down at the handle attached to the car door that Harry seemed to be talking about. He reached out and slowly cranked it, wincing at the piercing squeak that the window made as it rolled down. Harry did the same, although his window went down much faster.

They turned right at the end of the path, leading them onto another road made out of dirt. Clusters of bluebells were scattered around the grassy hills, each petal hugged by the wind. Draco rested his head on the door, sticking half of his face out of the window. Patchy sunlight fell onto his pale skin, warming it from the inside out. There was a sweet smell in the air, and Draco inhaled as much as he could.

They drove for about twenty minutes in silence, Harry lazily directing the car down the hill that his house rested on. As they climbed lower into the valley, the sun became blocked by a large and overstretching canopy of trees. Harry eventually pulled to a stop near a creek. The golden light that filtered through the cluster of trees caught on little insects buzzing around, causing their surroundings to look as though it was dotted with glowing golden orbs floating in the air.

“Ready?” Harry asked, a lazy smiling resting on his face.

“I suppose so.”

They both stepped out of the car, and Draco immediately walked over to the creek. He watched as the transparent water rippled over smooth stones and twigs. A frog leapt into the water, causing a gentle splash.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Harry asked, walking up next to him.

Draco nodded in agreement. “It’s beautiful.”

“Well, wanna get started?” Harry suggested.

“Sure,” Draco shrugged, rolling up his sleeves again. He could feel a light sweat pooling in the collar of his button-up shirt, and he found himself envious of Harry’s t-shirt and jeans.

They stayed standing at the edge of the creek. Draco watched Harry as he reached out his hand, a small orb of light appearing in the middle of his palm after muttering “Lumos.” He hated that Harry made it look so effortless, when it was, in fact, next to impossible.

“Remember, you got the beginning of it yesterday. Just relax, and it’ll eventually come back to you,” Harry advised, leaning against a tree trunk to watch.

“Relax. Right. Just relax,” Draco whispered to himself, closing his eyes.

He stuck out his arm, palm up, and inhaled. Concentrating on the warmth of the sun hitting his skin, Draco imagined the little ball of light that so easily appeared in Harry’s hand. He took his time with it, focusing on the sensation of heat travelling down his arm, through his veins, and into the palm of his hand. He muttered the incantation and opened his eyes.

Instead of sparks, a white light identical to that of Harry’s bobbed up and down an inch above his palm. A wide smile crept across Draco’s face.

“Fuck! I did it!” Draco yelled, staring at the light. “I did it, Potter!”

Harry offered Draco a toothy grin. “Great job! It’s perfect.”

Draco smirked. He let his hand fall, the light disappearing into the golden shadows of the early afternoon.

“So, what’s another easy spell that you want to learn next?” Harry asked, pushing up his round glasses.

“Accio, maybe? I’m quite tired of having to manually fetch things - especially my broom,” Draco suggested.

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing off of the tree trunk. “Right. Accio. We can do that. Hold my glasses for me, will you? I’m going to summon them.”

Harry walked over to Draco, placing the wiry frames in his hands. Then, he returned back to the tree trunk. Draco couldn’t help but observe how different he looked without his glasses - softer, he supposed.

Harry adjusted his right arm similarly to how he had done so to cast lumos - arm out and palm up, although his muscles didn’t look as rigid as they had for the prior spell.

“Accio!” Harry said, and his glasses flew from Draco’s hands and into his own.

“Merlin,” Draco muttered, finding himself both impressed and irritated at Harry’s skills.

“Right. Your go. Summon the rock by my foot,” Harry said, gesturing for Draco to try.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he stretched his right arm out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Accio rock!”

The rock next to Harry’s foot didn’t budge at all, and Draco’s mouth disappeared into a fine line. He snapped his neck back, closing his eyes as he tried to relax. After a moment, he got into position once again.

“You’ve got this, Malfoy. Remember to relax. Your arm is too tense,” Harry coached, looking intently at Draco’s form.

Taking a deep breath, “Accio” left his mouth. This time, the rock scooted slightly forward. Draco huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No problem. Try again,” Harry urged.

“Accio!” Draco screamed. Nothing.

They went on like this for the next thirty minutes, Draco getting riled up and Harry attempting to soothe him.

“Why don’t we stop for today?” Harry suggested.

“No. No way. I’m going to get it,” Draco insisted.

Harry sighed. “Okay, then why don’t we take a break?”

“Fine.”

They sat down together at the base of the tree trunk. Draco leaned his head back against the bark, looking up into the canopy of green above.

“How’s your mum?” Harry asked, breaking the still air.

Draco gave him a funny look. “I beg your pardon?”

“I just … She told Voldemort I was dead when she knew I wasn’t. I don’t know. I feel the need to repay her,” Harry explained, fidgeting with his hands.

Draco frowned. “Well, she loves thank you notes. I’m sure she’d appreciate one from you.”

“Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

The discussion between them dissolved, and both men turned to their innermost thoughts. Draco peered around, not in the mood to have an internal conversation with himself. The air smelled clean, and he saturated his lungs with the sweetness of it. What little sun fell through the copious amount of olive and juniper colored leaves was golden - somewhat akin to the color of the white light that Draco had very recently held in the palm of his hand. The warm breeze swallowed any spare thoughts he had, encompassing him in a swell of summer.

“Can I ask you something?” Draco asked suddenly, the words coming out of his mouth surprising him.

“Sure?” Harry said hesitantly.

“Why do big houses make you feel lonely?” Draco asked.

Harry frowned. “I inherited Sirius’ childhood home, and I moved there the day after the battle ended. The absence of other people was crippling. Ron and Hermione visited once, and even then I felt completely detached. I also think that big houses give me too much room to think. I only lasted at Grimmauld Place for a few days before realizing that I needed to move out.”

“Oh. Okay,” Draco said, mulling over what Harry had told him. Although the idea of living anywhere other than a large home seemed rather foreign, he could understand where Harry was coming from. He had spent many lonely days at the manor, afterall.

Draco leaned his head back against the tree trunk. He hadn’t felt this calm in a long while, not for months, anyhow. He was always either being bugged by his mother, his friends, or … Harry. Harry was an odd distraction, but a well-needed one, anyway. Plus, he was, by definition, enjoying learning something new. If he closed his eyes and pretended hard enough, it was almost as though he was back at Hogwarts, tormenting Harry in class.

“What’re you thinking about?” Harry asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Kicking your arse.”

“In what context?”

“Any context.”

“Want to practice some more, then?”

“Why not.”

They both stood. Draco dusted off the dirt he had suffered on the seat of his pants. He watched Harry stroll to where the rock he had been trying to move sat. Draco resumed his spot across from Harry. He shook out his arm to loosen the muscles in it.

“Would you stop shaking your arm? You look like you’re about to pitch a baseball,” Harry said, crossing his arms.

“What the hell is a baseball?” Draco asked, his pointy features souring.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ah - never mind. American Muggle sport.”

“Right. Well, please piss off,” Draco said nonchalantly

“You’re intolerable.”

“Thanks.”

Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes to envision the rock moving towards him. At the last moment, he remembered to loosen his arm before saying the incantation. He felt a tugging in his arm, but it wasn’t on the surface - no, it was deep down, the sensation rooting itself in his veins. His eyes snapped open, and the rock shot a foot forward.  
Before Harry could say anything, Draco yelled “Accio” again. The rock was tugged another foot forward. Draco called out the spell again, repeating it until the rock was at his feet.

He hesitantly looked at Harry. “Well?”

“Good. It was a good start. Does your arm feel loose?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Draco said in a tone that suggested it was obvious.

“Great. Well, let’s go again. I want you to be able to get it in one smooth try before we head back to the house,” Harry instructed.

Draco tossed the rock back to Harry’s feet. He continued to practice the spell for another twenty minutes, each time becoming more of a fluid motion than the last.

“Accio!”

The rock propelled from Harry’s feet into Draco’s outstretched hand. He clutched it, not believing he had accomplished the spell.

“Great job! That was perfect!” Harry said encouragingly.

“Of course it was perfect, Potter. This is me we’re talking about,” Draco sniffed.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Come on. Let’s drive back. I think I’m covered in bug bites.”

Draco frowned. “Same.”

They climbed into the car just as the sun started its journey towards the nightly western dip, and the sky was in the process of fading from a vivid blue to a pale violet. As Harry backed the car up, Draco watched the sinking sun hit off the rippling water in the creek.

Without being prompted, he cranked the window down and stuck his head out, drawing the softness of the twilight into his lungs. The car slowly chugged up the valley, elegant trees looming over them. Draco spotted the moon glimmering against the velvet of the sky. Creatures that dwelled in their surroundings began to settle in, letting out final notes of goodnight.

When they reached Harry’s house, Draco found himself feeling disappointed; he wanted the car ride to last longer. Yes, he was going to be flying through the air on his way home, but sticking his head out of the window of the car was a completely different sensation. It wasn’t nearly as intense as the air rushing towards him on a broom tended to be, and he was able to soak in the scenery much easier. As the car came to a rolling stop at the side of the house, he swallowed the lump that had come to roost in the back of his throat.

Draco stepped out of the car and walked towards his broom, which was leaning on the side of the house. As he waited for Harry to get out of the car, he looked around at the evaporating line that seperated sky from land, the evening turning them into one. As much as he hated to admit it, he was growing fond of where Harry lived. In contrast, the manor seemed very cold and closed-off. At Harry’s, there was an endless amount of earth in front of him.

Harry walked to where Draco and his broom were standing. “So, should we meet again tomorrow?”

“I can’t tomorrow. My mother has her gardening club, and I always help her set up,” Draco said, suddenly remembering his commitment.

“Oh. Okay. No problem. Uh, Tuesday, then?” Harry asked, his face falling.

“Tuesday works. What time?” Draco asked.

“Does one o’clock work?” Harry inquired.

“Yeah, it does. I guess I’ll see you then,” Draco said

“Okay. See you.”

Draco mounted his broom and kicked off into the air. He refused to look down, as he didn’t want to see the rolling hills and the ugly, bright orange car that he was leaving behind.

“Pull yourself together, Draco,” he whispered to himself, his voice dissolving into the evening wind.

By the time he got home, the sky was dark and quiet. He leaned his broom against the shed in the back garden, wiping his feet before entering through the backdoor.

“Mother? I’m home!” Draco shouted, his voice boomeranging back to him.

“In here, darling!” Narcissa replied.

Draco walked towards the drawing room. There, he found his mother seated on her chair near the fireplace, flames curling into the air.

“How was your time with Harry, dear?” Narcissa asked as she flipped through the latest copy of “Witches Weekly.”

“Good. Fine,” Draco said nonchalantly, settling into the chair opposite his mother.

Narcissa looked up from her magazine and arched an eyebrow. “In the nearly eight years that you’ve known him, that’s the least you’ve ever said about Harry Potter.”

Draco shrugged his shoulders, leaning on the arm of the chair. “Not much to say, I suppose. I learned two spells today.”

“Really? Two? Merlin, I had the hardest time with wandless spells in 6th year. They were a nightmare,” Narcissa replied, shuddering.

“They’re not too bad,” Draco lied.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finding them to be alright. When are you seeing Harry next?” Narcissa asked.

“Tuesday.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad you’re keeping this up, Draco.”

“Thanks, Mother.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Nice pajamas, Draco. What are they, cotton?”

Draco blinked his eyes open, slowly adjusting to the mid-morning light. Blaise loomed over him, a smirk plastered on his face, while Pansy stood at the end of his bed.

“Think he’ll move if I tickle his feet?” Pansy asked Blaise, tucking strands from the front of her black bob behind her ears.

Blaise shrugged. “Give it a go.”

Draco watched in frozen horror as Pansy reached her hands under Draco’s blanket, latching onto his feet. He squirmed as quickly as his half-asleep body would move, accidentally catapulting himself out of bed and onto the wooden floor. He landed with a groan. Pansy and Blaise were pointedly not subtle in their amusement, both laughing until tears began to leak.

“You’re awful friends. Absolutely terrible. I’m divorcing the both of you,” Draco said as he stood up, brushing himself off.

“You couldn’t last a week without us,” Pansy said, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You fucking wish,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“Listen, mate, we’ve been enlisted by your mum to help her set up. Get your arse dressed, and we’ll meet you downstairs, yeah?” Blaise asked, clapping Draco on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Go on, you arseholes,” Draco said, shooing them out of his bedroom door.

As soon as he was alone, he gave himself a minute to properly wake up. He leaned over his bed so he could push the window open. The morning air was saturated with grey humidity that lacked the sweetness of the countryside.

After twenty minutes, Draco descended the stairs in a shirt, tie, trousers, and oxfords. He found Pansy and Blaise lounging about at a table in the back left corner of the back garden.

His mother had done a particularly wonderful job with the garden. Rows upon rows of white and pink roses lined the back portion of the property, and circular tables shrouded in linen tablecloths were placed intermittently among them. On the far right sat an enormous fountain that had been purchased when Draco was five-years-old; the ornately carved statue of a dragon wrapped its scaled body around a marble sphere that gently released bubbling water at the top. The sound of the rippling water reminded him of the creek near Harry’s house, and he found himself longing to see it again.

Pansy waved him over, the wide sleeve of her dark red dress rippling in the breeze. He strolled towards his friends, choosing the seat next to Blaise.

“So, how are things?” Draco asked, settling into his chair.

“Pretty dull, to be honest,” Blaise answered.

“Speak for yourself! I, for one, got laid yesterday. That’s more than either of you sorry bastards can say,” Pansy said, smirking.

Blaise looked at Draco, amusement reaching his eyes . “Remind me again why she’s the only one out of the three of us that’s had sex?”

Draco chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Because we have high standards.”

“Would you two get off of your high horses? I’ll have you know that the girl I slept with yesterday thinks that Blaise is very handsome,” Pansy chimed in.

Blaise frowned. “Thanks, Pans, but I’m not particularly interested in going down on the same girl as you.”

Pansy shrugged. “Your loss.”

“I don’t know. I kind of have my sights set on someone,” Blaise admitted, a blush creeping up his umber neck.

Draco turned to him, narrowing his eyes. “It better not be Theo.”

Pansy pointed her finger at Blaise. “Aha! It is! I can see it in your eyes. Fucking knew you weren’t over him.”

“For the love of Merlin, how many times are we going to have to go over this, Blaise?” Draco asked in an exasperated tone.

Blaise simply shrugged. “I ran into him in Diagon Alley the other day, and we got to talking.”

“Did any of your conversations have to do with the fact that he’s an arsehole who treats you like rubbish?” Pansy asked bitterly, crossing her arms.

“Well, not exactly.”

“That’s what I thought. Merlin, Blaise! There are so many other witches and wizards out there. Please, I’m begging you, expand your fucking horizons,” Pansy said, rubbing her temple.

“I mean, she’s got a point,” Draco said meekly.

Blaise groaned. “Listen, I’m not going to take him back unless he explicitly apologizes to me.”

“We all know you’re just saying that to keep Pansy from ripping your dick off,” Draco said matter-of-factly.

“Ugh. Whatever. Can we please move on from my love life?” Blaise pleaded.

“Fine, fine. So, Draco, anything new?” Pansy asked, turning her eyes onto him.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, uh, yeah … I guess. Um, so, Potter returned my wand.”

Pansy gasped. “He what? Finally!”

“Well, there’s more. My wand is broken. Permanently. So he’s been giving me wandless magic lessons everyday since,” Draco explained, preparing himself to be berated with questions.

“I, fucking, beg your pardon?” Blaise asked, cocking his head at Draco.

“Fucking hell, Draco! You’ve been going to his bloody house?” Pansy nearly shrieked. Several of Narcissa’s friends turned towards their table.

“Would you shut up? And yes, I have,” Draco said.

“Well, what’s it like?” Blaise inquired.

“Tell us everything!” Pansy chimed in.

Draco groaned, rolling his eyes. “I swear, you two are the fucking nosiest people I know. Well, he lives in this fucking ridiculous house, right? It’s this tiny little thing - and I mean tiny - and it’s bright red. The house is in the absolute middle of nowhere. Yesterday we went to this creek near his house to practice.”

Draco found himself deliberately leaving out the part about the car. That was something private - something that he didn’t want to share with Pansy and Blaise. It belonged to him, and no one more.

Pansy stared at him, wide-eyed. “I cannot bloody believe what I’m hearing.”

Blaise let out a small chuckle. “Still find him just as irritating as you did in school?”

“Merlin, yes. He’s fucking impossible,” Draco sighed.

“I genuinely don’t know how you haven’t killed him yet,” Pansy said.

“Because my bloody wand doesn’t work,” Draco deadpanned.

“What I wouldn’t give to see him teach you wandless magic,” Blaise said.

“That would be brilliant,” Pansy agreed.

“You can both fuck right off,” Draco said, glaring.

“Oh! Speaking of fucking, I completely forgot to mention that I ran into Millicent the other day when Mum and I were out shopping. Guess who she’s been sleeping with?” Pansy exclaimed.

Draco frowned. “Wasn’t she seeing Terence Higgs?”

Pansy raised her eyebrow. “Oh, she’s long past Terence. Keep up, boys.”

“Just tell us, Pans,” Blaise urged.

“Okay, okay. Well, she told me that she’s become friends with benefits with Daphne,” Pansy said.

“Daphne? Daphne Greengrass?” Draco asked.

“The very one.”

“Not going to lie, I really didn’t see that coming,” Blaise said.

“Merlin, I can’t get the image of them together out of my mind,” Draco whined, leaning his head on the table.

“Did you really have to say that, Draco? Now I can’t either,” Blaise groaned.

“You’re just scared of the power that comes from women loving women,” Pansy huffed.

“No, I’m scared of imagining Millicent’s naked body,” Draco mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Okay, let’s move on! Have either of you thought about what you’re going to do since we’re no longer in school?” Blaise asked.

Draco shook his head. “I’ve got no clue.”

Pansy shrugged. “I’m probably going to try to get an internship at “Witches Weekly.” You?”

Blaise leaned back in his chair. “I’m probably going to marry and divorce a number of rich witches and wizards, taking all of their money for my own.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “So …you’re going to become your mother?”

“Precisely.”

“Right.”

“I think rich widow would look good on you,” Pansy concluded.

They all fell into a fit of laughter. Draco looked at his friends, whom he loved so dearly, and found himself wishing that he was somewhere else.


	5. Chapter 5




	6. Chapter 6

Draco was surprised to find Harry waiting for him outfront, sitting lazily on the porch steps. Wearing an orange t-shirt, cuffed jeans, and nothing on his feet, Harry looked like the epitome of summer as he loosely held a cup of tea in his hand.

Draco stood in front of him, crossing his arms. “Well?”

A smirk appeared on Harry’s chapped lips. “Well?”

“Are we practicing or not?” Draco huffed, crossing his arms.

“Merlin, slow down. Why don’t you go make yourself a cuppa and then come sit here with me? Tea bags are in the cupboard to the right of the fridge,” Harry said. “There’s really no rush.”

“No rush, my arse,” Draco mumbled, rolling his eyes as he stepped around Harry. He stomped up the steps and into his house.

Turning into the cramped kitchen, Draco saw that the kettle was still emitting curls of steam from the lip of the spout. Standing on his toes, he opened the cupboard above the refrigerator and pulled down a large antique tin filled to the brim with random tea bags. He rifled through them quickly, wanting nothing more than a simple cup of English breakfast.

“Potter, your method of tea organizing is a bloody disaster!” Draco shouted from the kitchen, his eyes finally landing on a bag of English breakfast tea.

He could hear Harry laughing deeply from the front steps as he poured boiling water into a seemingly clean mug that had been resting on the kitchen counter. After the tea bag brewed in the boiling water for exactly four minutes, he discarded it and added four sugar cubes that he had plucked from the sugar container that sat in the corner of the counter. He found chilled milk in the fridge, adding a dash of it before putting it away.

He strolled out of the house, closing the front door behind him. Harry was in the same position he had left him in, perched on the second step with his legs tucked up on the third. Draco carefully sat down next to him, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Where are we practicing?”  
Harry hummed in thought. “Want to just stay here? We could either practice in the living room or here on the porch. Whichever you prefer.”

The sky had been overcast when Draco had arrived at Harry’s house, but in the time it had taken to make his tea, the sky had turned an intense charcoal color, and swollen drops of rain were beginning to fall. The air wasn’t as warm as it had been, the first storm of the summer having a ride.

“Okay.”

“So, any requests for which spell we work on today?” Harry asked, his voice filling the air.

Draco stretched his legs out, his feet reaching the bottom step. “Scourgify, maybe?”

“Sounds good.”

The rain fell harder, mist breathing over the deep crevices etched into the green hills in the distance. The sound of insects humming and constant thrum of raindrops hitting the roof filled the muggy air. Draco watched the white wildflowers droop under the swells of water that kissed their petal from the safety of the porch.

They sat together in a comfortable silence, Draco watching the haze of rain seep into the dampened earth. Steam coming off of his tea curled in white wisps, evaporating into the thick, heavy air. It felt as though the whole world was quiet, the only sound being that of the gentle lull of rain.

“I take it you’ve never seen a Muggle movie?” Harry asked, staring into his cup of tea.

Draco frowned. “ I only know bits and pieces about cinemas from the gossip at school. So no, Potter, I haven’t really had time in between school and the Dark Lord to pop into a cinema.

“You know that’s not what I meant, you arsehole.”

“Whatever,” Draco said, waving a hand dismissively in the air.

“Malfoy, I’m trying to ask you if you want to watch a movie with me tonight,” Harry said with a little too much volume.

“Why not just ask Granger or the Weasel?” Draco replied after a moment of quiet hesitation.

Harry sighed. “Hermione and Ron started dating last month, so I haven’t seen a lot of them lately.”

Draco grimaced. “Ewe. First month of dating? They’re definitely spending all of their free time fucking. No wonder you haven’t seen them.”

Harry whacked Draco on the arm. “Oi!”

“Just saying!” Draco laughed, greatly enjoying the discomfort sitting on Harry’s face.

“Merlin. I didn’t need that,” Harry muttered.

“Neither did I, but here we are,” Draco snickered.

Harry sighed, rubbing his temple. “You never answered my question, though.”

“Which was?” Draco asked.

“Want to stay after practice and watch a movie with me?”

“Fine, Potter. I will stay after practice and watch a bloody movie with you. Happy?”

“Very.”

“Wonderful.”

Draco watched Harry tip the lip of his mug into his mouth, chugging the large amount of tea remaining in his cup.

“You heathen! Why the bloody hell would you chug tea?” Draco asked as Harry wiped his mouth with his hand, alarm creeping into his shrill voice.

Harry smirked. “What? I wanted to start practice.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to go gulping your tea! Merlin, you’re a disgrace,” Draco huffed, flicking his steel eyes to Harry. “And for the love of fuck, would you stop looking so pleased with yourself?”

Harry shrugged, standing up. “It’s fun to annoy you.”

“I bloody hate you.”

“Thanks, Malfoy.”

After Draco stood up, they wandered into Harry’s house. The windows in the living room were cracked open, letting in the soft, timid sound of raindrops submerging themselves into the wet earth. Draco settled into the couch, and Harry flicked on the floor lamp with his wand. A pale yellow light filled the room, dark shadows hidden behind picture frames and potted plants levitating in the corner near the window.

“Right. Scourgify. Mind if I borrow your cup?” Harry asked, grabbing Draco’s mug off of the coffee table without waiting for an answer. Before Draco could say anything, Harry poured the remaining contents of his tea onto the wooden floor.

“What the hell, Potter?” Draco sputtered, staring at the large puddle of tea on the floor.

Harry smirked. “Well, I needed to find something for you to Scourgify. In order to perform it, you’ll need to use your index finger to point at what you want to clean. Make sure that your muscles are a bit more rigid than when performing Accio.”

Harry walked over to one of the levitating plants, grabbing a handful of dirt and letting it fall through his fingers and onto the ground. He pointed his index finger at the pile of dirt, saying the incantation. The dirt very swiftly lifted into the air, disintegrating before Draco’s eyes.

“Your turn. Clean up the tea,” Harry instructed, folding his arms as he perched on the windowsill.

“Bollocks,” Draco muttered, pointing his finger at the tea on the floor. “Scourgify.”

As expected, nothing happened. Still, Draco felt a flood of embarrassment, heat reaching his cheeks.

“That’s okay. Give it another go,” Harry encouraged him. Draco frowned.

“Scourgify!”

Two miniscule droplets of tea shot into the air, quivering for a moment before dropping back onto the floor.

Harry grinned. “Okay, that’s progress! You’re really getting the hang of wandless magic.”

“Thanks, Scarhead.”

They continued working on the spell for a few hours, Draco’s arm beginning to ache halfway through. Harry murmured words of encouragement after every attempt, which caused conflicting feelings inside Draco. On one hand, Harry’s enthusiasm was exhausting and irritating. However, it was nice to know that he believed in him.

After one final attempt, the tea rushed into the air, dissolving just as the dirt had. Draco could feel himself grinning, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“You got it! Thank Merlin. I really didn’t want a tea stain on the wood,” Harry joked, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“Bugger off.”

“Want to go for a ride?” Harry asked abruptly.

Draco quirked his head in curiosity. “Aren’t we going to watch a Muggle movie?”

Harry shrugged. “After. Now, we’re going for a ride.”

“Sure. Okay.”

Draco couldn’t help but feel a hum of excitement in his bones as they hurried to the car, both of them getting soaked within seconds. He felt a swell of pride as he buckled himself in, pleased that he knew how to prepare for a ride appropriately.

As Harry backed out from the side of the house and onto the dirt road, Draco asked, “mind if I roll down the window?”

“Nope. Be my guest. Want to listen to some music?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Draco said, cranking the window down. He was immediately hit with the sweet, light smell of rain, droplets softly landing on the inside of the car. He didn’t mind, though. Despite the sheets of water falling from the bruised sky, he stuck his head out the window.

Harry put a thin, circular disk into a slot on the dashboard, and the stereo hummed to life. A soft, slow song came on. Harry hummed absently along.

“It’s nice. I like it,” Draco said, closing his eyes. The gentle lull of the music filled his head, the lyrics swimming behind his eyelids. He felt a deep tugging in his heart.

Harry steered the car down into the valley beneath the hill that his house sat on, the canopy of trees stretching over the road creating an indigo shadow. They wound their way down to the creek, its water passing over rocks in blur of teal, olive, and walnut. Harry guided the car onto a road that Draco hadn’t been on before, a field of golden mustard on the left. He spotted a doe and fawn roaming through the delicate foliage, low-hanging mist surrounding them, and he smiled softly.

“This is weird,” Harry said, his voice slipping into the sounds of music and rain.

Draco looked at him with confusion. “What do you mean?’

Harry sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “We spent so many years hating each other, and here we are, seven years later, voluntarily spending time together.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“And I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just think my eleven-year-old self would be shocked.”

Draco hummed in agreement. “It is odd. You’re still as annoying as the day I met you, but I suppose the lessons compensate for your awful personality.”

Harry let out a snort. “Likewise, Malfoy.”

“What are we having for dinner?” Draco asked.

“Rather presumptuous of you,” Harry said, grinning.

“If I’m to suffer through a Muggle movie with you, I expect to be fed delicious food as a reward,” Draco explained.

“Right,” Harry laughed, “well, we could do takeout again, or I could heat some soup that I made last night.”

“What kind of soup?”

“Potato leek.”

“That’ll do.” Draco wiped fat drops of rain from the side of his face.

“So, the Weaselette and Lovegood, huh?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. They make a really nice couple, to be honest - much better than Ginny and I ever were together.”

“I keep meaning to write Lovegood a letter, checking up on her after … Well, you know,” Draco murmured, thinking back to when Luna had been held prisoner in his dungeon.

Harry turned to him for a brief moment, and Draco could see his reflection in his forest green eyes. He felt strange - vulnerable - and immediately regretted saying something that rested on the cusp of their tangled history.

“I think she’d like that an awful lot,” Harry said, turning back to look at the road.

Draco didn’t respond. Instead, he rested his head on the car door, drizzles of rain collecting on his cold face.

The car slowly chugged out of the forest on the valley floor, emerging into a clearing that led into a small village. They cruised down the main street, lightning hitting the sky in the far distance. The small buildings that lined the road were all made out of cobblestone, and their front doors were painted pastel colors, varying from robin blue to strawberry cream.

“I love driving through this village,” Harry said as Draco drank in the sight of Muggles milling about the street, umbrellas overhead as they wove lazily in and out of shops.

“Muggles certainly have an interesting sense in fashion,” Draco observed, watching a pair of teenagers walk along the path, both wearing butterfly clips in their hair, dark lipstick, and chunky shoes.

Harry snorted. “Says the one who comes from a society that wears pointy black hats and robes.”

Draco frowned. “What’s wrong with robes?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Harry sighed in amusement.

Harry turned left, exiting the main street. They drove past cottages with elaborate gardens that reminded Draco of his own. Once they reached the outskirts of the village, the road began to slope upwards.

“This road will take us back to the house,” Harry explained.

“Okay.”

They reached the house an hour later, the rain coming down even harder than before. Thunderclouds whipped across the sky as Harry parked the car on the side of the house.

As soon as the engine turned off, Draco yanked open the door and sprinted to the porch. Harry followed, shaking his damp hair out once he reached the front door.

“Merlin, you’re like a wet dog,” Draco huffed.

Harry shrugged as he unlocked the door. “It’s effective.”

“Would you mind drying me off?” Draco asked as they entered the house, the cold, still air hitting his lungs with a burn.

“Sure,” Harry said, flicking his wand in Draco’s direction. He could immediately feel the effect of the drying charm, the water molecules seeping out of his clothing and hair. After he was fully dry, Harry cast the same spell on himself.

Draco plopped down on the couch, crossing his legs. “What movie are we watching tonight?”

Harry stood near the television.“I was thinking of putting on ‘Sleepless in Seattle.’ It’s a romantic comedy - something light and easy.”

Draco nodded in approval, settling further into the couch. “Alright, I’ll give it a go.”

“Perfect,” Harry said, kneeling on the floor. “I just have to find it.”

He watched Harry rifle through cases that were organized on a bookshelf next to the television set. As he searched for ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’ the back of his t-shirt rode up, subtly exposing the small of his back. Draco tilted his head, peering at the modest amount of warm skin. It looked soft, different compared to the rest of his skin, which was worn, hard, and scarred from years of physical exertion. As he watched the muscles in Harry’s back twitch with every breath, he found himself wondering why, out of all places, the small of his back had escaped the scrutiny of war.

Draco thought about his own skin and the scars that he had been left with. His largest marks ran from his collarbones to his naval, rigid raised lines the color of cream standing out against his already pale skin. And then, of course, there was a mark that wasn’t so much a scar as a bad memory - a reminder of who he came from, as well as who he was. The black ink dug itself into his inner left forearm, a serpent slithering gracelessly out of the mouth of a skull.

“Found it!” Harry said with enthusiasm, pulling the back of his shirt down as he stood up and popped the video tape into the player.

Draco blinked, confused for only a second before grounding himself. “Took you long enough. Are you sure your glasses work?”

Harry sighed, sinking into the cushion next to him as he made a show of taking his glasses off, squinting at Draco, and then putting them back on. “Yeah, they work. You’re uglier when they’re on.”

“Rude,” Draco snorted in feign disgust.

Harry simply shrugged, flicking the television on. The screen hummed to life, filling Harry’s small living room with an indigo hue as Draco adjusted his position.

Nearly two hours later, Draco blinked, suddenly realizing that the movie had drawn to a close as the credits began to creep down the black background.

“Surely that’s not it,” Draco stated, looking to Harry for reassurance.

Harry laughed, standing up to turn off the television. “That’s it. Sorry. Want me to start heating up dinner?”

“Sure. Can I help with anything?” Draco asked, stretching his stiff muscles as he stood.

Heading towards the kitchen, Harry nodded. “You can get the toast going.”

As Harry pulled out a pot of soup from the fridge and poured it into a saucepan, Draco very quickly realized that he had no way to make toast. As he mulled over what to do, not wanting to embarrass himself, he noticed Harry turning on the stove, the strong smell of gas filling the room as a flickering blue flame burst to life. Harry set the saucepan over the flame, giving the soup a quick stir before looking at Draco.

“You alright?” Harry asked, knitting his eyebrows together as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Yes, I … Are you heating it up the Muggle way?” Draco asked, referring to the soup on the stove.

“Wha-? Oh, yeah. It’s a gas stove,” Harry shrugged.

“Why not just use the heating charm?” Draco frowned. “Seems a lot easier.”

“I guess I prefer cooking the Muggle way. Never really gave it much thought, I suppose,” Harry wondered aloud. “Oh, speaking of, I should probably teach you how to use the toaster.”

“The what?” Draco asked skeptically, eyeing Harry as he walked over to a shiny metal box sitting on the counter next to the stove.

“This,” Harry said, grinning broadly as he patted the contraption, “is a toaster. It, well … It toasts things.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“Yes! Come on, I’ll show you how to work it,” Harry said, beckoning him over.

“It doesn’t look particularly safe,” Draco observed, crossing his arms.

“It is. Don’t worry,” Harry replied, an amused smile playing on his lips. “So, take two pieces of bread and drop them into the slots.”

Draco hesitantly took the pieces of bread from the loaf Harry had pulled out from a cupboard and gingerly placed them into the slots in the toaster. He looked at Harry expectantly, waiting for his next instructions.

“Right. Now, push these levers down,” Harry directed, gesturing to a small handle below each slot.  
Draco slowly pushed them down, flinching when they locked in place. He peered inside the toaster, watching the interior walls of the slot begin to glow a burning orange.

“So, do I just leave it?” he asked.

“Yep. It’ll pop up when it’s done.”

Harry stirred the soup again, thin wisps of steam curling off of the simmering skin. Pleased, he turned the stove off.

“So.”

“Yes?” Draco frowned.

Harry took his glasses off and began to clean the lenses with the bottom hem of his shirt. “Have you ever been in love?”

Draco’s mouth hung open slightly. “I beg your pardon?”

Before Harry had the chance to respond, a popping noise went off, and Draco’s heart leapt into his throat as he jumped skittishly. “Merlin’s beard! What the bloody fuck was that, Potter?”

Harry let out a low laugh, his smile reaching his eyes. “Calm down, Malfoy. It’s just the toaster.”

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes in hopes of masking his startlement. “Just the toaster. Ha.”

As they dished out dinner, Draco swallowed thickly, losing the nerve to ask about the whole “have you ever been in love” thing. They settled back onto the couch, soup and toast in hand, and Harry looked at him expectantly.

“Well?” Harry asked.

“Well, what?” Draco frowned.

“Aren’t you going to try your soup?”

“Bloody hell, I was getting to it,” Draco scowled, carefully taking a sip off of the steaming spoon. Piping hot liquid hit his tongue, warming his body from the inside out. He sighed, leaning into the creaminess of the soup.

“Good?” Harry asked hopefully, knitting his eyebrows together.

Draco nodded, swallowing. “Very good. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

Harry shrugged. “I used to cook for my aunt and uncle.”

“Ah. Right. The Muggles.”

“Yep. The Muggles.”

They sat in quiet discontent for several minutes, the awkward sound of crunching toast filling the otherwise soundless room. The silence between them was thick and uncomfortable, and it was beginning to suffocate Draco.

He cleared his throat, disrupting the quietness that had settled in. “So, what was it like?”

“What was what like?” Harry asked, taking a large bite of toast.

“You know, living with Muggles.”

Harry’s face fell. “Oh. It wasn’t great - not because they’re Muggles, but because they’re awful people.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure they were absolutely horrible to the bloody Boy-Who-Lived,” Draco joked.

“Shut up, Malfoy. You don’t know anything about it,” Harry sneared. Before Draco could say anything, Harry abruptly stood up, taking his dishes to the kitchen. Draco followed, confused as to what was happening.

“What the hell, Potter? I was just messing with you,” Draco said, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip.

Harry sighed, placing his dishes in the sink before turning around to face Draco. “I had a miserable childhood at their house. I lived in the cupboard under the stairs, and they made me cook for them. I didn’t know that magic existed until I got my Hogwarts letter. Hell, my aunt and uncle told me that my parents had died in a car crash. I grew up feeling worthless and like a waste of space. I’m sure they would’ve much preferred me dying during the battle.”

Draco stood there, motionless. “Shit. I didn’t - I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry slid to the ground, his back against the cupboard under the sink, and rested his head in his hands. Draco hesitantly sat down next to him, gently placing a hand on his knee.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Draco began, but he stopped when Harry looked up, tears leaking from his red-rimmed eyes.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t know. It’s just really hard sometimes,” Harry whispered, taking a shaky breath, “especially when so much shit has happened to me. I feel like my childhood homelife shouldn’t even matter in the grand scheme of things, but I still get nightmares and, sometimes, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to get into trouble for burning the bacon or ruining my cousin’s day.”

Draco felt a pressure on his left shoulder; he looked down, startled to see Harry’s head gingerly resting on it. He sat stiffly, not wanting to disturb Harry by shifting his position. The feeling of his head against his shoulder was heavy and real - it was a tangible feeling that let him know he wasn’t alone.

“Your shoulder’s bony,” Harry stated matter-of-factly.

Draco snorted. “Thanks, Potter.”

Harry let out a long breath of air. “You know you can call me Harry, right?”

Draco knitted his eyebrows together. “And why would I do that?”

“Well, you did it a minute ago.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Piss off.”

Harry smiled softly as he took his glasses off so he could wipe the tears that stained his face, letting out a long, hot breath of air. “Want to go for a drive?”

Draco looked down at him, grinning, “you bet your arse I do.”


	7. Chapter 7

The beat up, burnt orange Volkswagen Golf GTI sat in a large puddle of soggy grass, positioned awkwardly next to the side of the house, as it always was. However, it looked different up close at night; shadows occupied the empty car, and stale raindrops slouched on the windshield, reflecting any fractions of silver light slipping through the thick grey clouds. As soon as Harry unlocked the car, they slid into their respective seats and took off.

As Harry drove through the black ink of the night, Draco cranked down the window, resting his head gently on the door. He could feel small particles of mist collecting on his face, the wind rustling his hair as they drove upwards, mounting a hill that Draco had never been on before. 

As the car chugged along the road, Draco took in the sweetness of the night. It was as if the storm had washed all semblance of summer away, bringing with it a thick veil of somberness. The stark blackness of the sky was consuming.

“Do you ever think about what life would have been like?” Harry asked.

Draco frowned, sitting up. “What do you mean?”

“If things had been different - if I hadn’t been born at the end of July and you hadn’t been born into a pureblood family,” Harry explained.

Draco swallowed thickly, letting out a light, dry laugh. “Always.”

“What do you like to imagine?” Harry poked, looking straight at the road.

“Lots of things,” Draco sighed.

“Like what?”

Draco looked wearily at Harry out of the corner of his eye. “I like to imagine what life would be like if I didn’t have the mark.”

“The Dark Mark?”

“Yes, Potter. The bloody Dark Mark.”

“What about it?”

“Merlin, you’re impossible. I guess I just like to imagine a life without the weight of it. It’s heavy. Did you know that? No, I bet you didn’t. It’s like the magic that was used to create it was laced with lead.”

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry Malfoy. Is there any way to remove it?”

Draco shook his head. “No. My mother and I have looked into it. There’s no undoing this kind of dark magic. It’s permanent.”

Harry was silent for a while, the only sound between them being that of the purring motor. Draco’s ears began to pop as they climbed higher and higher up the hill, the midnight color of the sky bleeding into the invisible horizon. A light rain had begun to fall , landing on the car in hollow thumps. A shiver ran up Draco’s spine, but he refused to roll up the window. There was something about the cold night air that made him feel better, and he wasn’t about to let a bit of rain take that away from him. 

After twenty minutes of driving, they finally reached even ground on the top of the hill. Harry parked the car underneath a tall, looming willow tree, its leaves drooping under the weight of swollen raindrops. The car’s motor turned off, and Harry looked at Draco. Draco looked back.

“I’ve really liked teaching you, you know,” Harry said quietly.

Draco could feel heat rising to his cheeks. “I’ve liked it too … Tell anyone, and I’ll bloody kill you.”

Harry snorted. “No one will know. Scout’s honor.”

“Scoot’s honor? What the hell is a ‘scoot’s honor?’” Draco asked, puzzled.

“Scout’s honor,” Harry corrected him, “and nevermind. It’s a Muggle thing.”

“Whatever,” Draco sighed, but there was a light note of laughter in his voice.

A thick blanket of silence washed over the car, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Draco couldn’t help but find the entire situation odd - sitting with his childhood enemy on top of a hill in the middle of the night. The whole thing was ridiculous, and yet, it was oddly fitting. Being with Harry, whether that was learning wandless magic or watching a Muggle movie, made him feel more at ease than he had in a long while, although he wasn’t quite sure why. There was just something about Harry that was a comfort of sorts.

“I think we could have been friends back in school,” Harry thought aloud. 

Draco looked at him with an arched eyebrow. “Well, I did offer.”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“I understand what you’re saying, though, I suppose. I wish I could just reimagine my childhood, make it into something that belonged to me instead of … Someone else. I used to be such a happy child, but the war completely tarnished all of those memories,” Draco sighed. 

The rain fell harder, the soft pitter-patter on the hood of the car turning into loud and repetitive beating, Draco shifting in his seat, the topic of conversation making him feel ill at ease. It was odd mulling over his childhood out loud, nevermind in the presence of someone he used to hate. Although, as he closed his eyes, Draco wondered if he ever did truly hate him. Memories came flooding back, blinding the back of his eyelids as he saw scene after scene of the famous Boy Who Lived winning, winning, winning. Perhaps it was jealousy that had created somewhat of a war inside his mind as a child, the earth coming down behind his eyes. 

The car engine gurgled to life, and Draco looked at Harry with a curious expression. “Are we going back to your house?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Do you want to go back?” Harry asked, slowly reversing into a position where he could get onto the road that led down the hill. 

“No, keep driving.”

Harry nodded, cautiously driving on the wet asphalt. A crack of thunder and a flash of white light sent a threat across the sky, lighting the dark, menacing clouds up for a mere moment. The inside of Draco’s car door was waterlogged, rain pouring in from the open window. He had no intention of rolling it up. The rain felt real. It felt cold and wet and completely different from the heavy thrum in his inner left forearm. 

The digital clock on the dashboard glowed 1:19 am in small yellow numbers. Draco wondered where they were going at an hour past midnight, as the car was heading in the opposite direction of Harry’s house, speeding towards the road that led to the Muggle village. 

Harry turned the radio on, soft static intertwining with the gentle sound of slow music. After ten minutes of driving, they turned down an unfamiliar road lined with lamp posts, amber light flickering onto the slick asphalt. Pretty soon, small cottages began to dot the street.

“Where are we going?” Draco asked.

Harry smiled. “You’ll see.”

Five minutes later, they arrived at a dingy, Muggle American-style diner. A neon red and blue sign glowed in the streaked window, signalling that it was open. Besides their car, the car park was empty. 

“This? This is where you’re taking me?” Draco asked with an incredulous laugh over the insistent pounding of the rain on the car roof.

“What? You don’t like it?” Harry asked mischievously. 

Draco grinned. “You’re something else, Potter.”

“Thanks, you git.”

On the count of three, the two of them ripped open the car doors, slammed them shut, and ran towards the diner. Despite having found the closest parking space to the entrance, by the time they reached the safety of the overhang, they were both soaked head to toe.

Harry pulled the door open, gesturing for Draco to go ahead. “Come on, after you.”

Draco scurried inside, the stale smell of an overworked radiator mingling with whatever greasy thing was being cooked in the kitchen. A squat middle-aged man waddled out from the kitchen, weaving his way in between the tables to where Draco and Harry were waiting at the front.

“Hey, lads. Table for two?” the man asked gruffly.

“Yes, please,” Harry said. The man nodded, grabbed two laminated menus, and gestured for them to follow him. He seated them at a booth next to the window that lined the front side of the diner. 

Once alone, Harry let out a long sigh. “So, is this your first Muggle dining experience?”

“You know it is, you arse.”

Harry grinned. “Well, how hungry are you? I have recommendations for all levels of hunger.”

“Not very, although I could go for a basket of chips,” Draco said, peering at the sticky menu.

“Oh, that does sound good. And what about a milkshake? Want to split one?” Harry asked eagerly.

Draco shrugged. “Sure.”

“So,” Harry began, adjusting in his seat across from Draco, “what spell are you thinking of learning next?”

“Oh, I haven’t given it much thought, really,” Draco said. “I suppose I’d like to continue learning practical things, I think. Do you have anything in mind?”

“I agree, we should stick to practical things. Alohomora, maybe? Or Reparo?” Harry suggested.

“Agreed.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly until the gruff man returned. Harry ordered for the both of them, and within ten minutes they had their food: two steaming baskets of chips and one large vanilla milkshake, topped with whipped cream and a bright red cherry. 

“Merlin, this looks good,” Draco muttered as soon as the man was gone, liberally pouring salt on his basket of chips.

“I second that,” Harry said, licking his fingers, having already eaten two chips.

The conversation flowed easily, and before he knew it, twenty minutes had passed.

Draco looked down at his basket of chips, which was disappearing, and then back up at Harry, who was smiling softly at him. He returned the smile weakly, slowly realizing that, at some point, the night would have to draw to a close. This was a difficult concept to consider, since the whole world seemed to be at a standstill. No matter how hard he tried, Draco couldn’t imagine life extending beyond this very moment - him sitting across from Harry in a run-down diner in the early hours of the morning. Nothing felt real, and yet it all felt so very, incredibly palpable. 

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, interrupting his train of thought.

“Oh, nothing,” Draco said nonchalantly, waving a hand dismissively in the air.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “It certainly didn’t look like nothing.”

“Merlin, have you always been this nosy?” Draco asked, a crimson flush crawling up the back of his neck.

“Probably,” Harry shrugged, shoving the last of his chips into his mouth. 

Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s nothing, Potter. Just leave it.”

“Fine, fine,” Harry said, dusting the salt off of his hands. “So, we should probably head back soon.”

Draco swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

As soon as Harry paid the bill, they stepped back out into the pouring rain. The car was cold, and Draco begrudgingly buckled his seatbelt. The engine turned over, and they began their journey back to Harry’s house. Draco sighed, wanting nothing more than to be able to cast a warming charm.  
Fat swells of raindrops fell in through the open window, and Draco closed his eyes. He didn’t want the night to end. 

The drive back to the house was quiet, the air between them filled with something that Draco couldn’t quite put his finger on. As Harry parked the car, Draco sighed.

“Well, I had a really nice night with you,” Harry said, climbing out of the car.

“Yeah. Me too,” Draco said shortly, grabbing his broom from the shelter of the front porch. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Harry asked, unlocking the front door.

“Sure. See you,” Draco said, walking back down the porch steps. He heard the door close behind him, and his heart sank.

The rain fell hard, soaking into his pale skin. As much as he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to mount his broom. The more he thought about Harry, the more everything made sense. It was like that song they had listened to. With him, he felt as though he had felt the light for the very first time. All throughout the war, no one knew he had been lucky to be alive, and yet there he was, relearning his own magic with Harry. The past few days had gone by in a blur, but through them he had already begun to let go of the past that laid behind him, as confusing as it was. 

Draco dropped his broom in the mud and rushed back up the porch steps. He pounded on the door, breathing in heavy waves. A confused Harry opened the door. Draco looked into his eyes for what must have been the thousandth time, but this was different. Before Harry could say anything, Draco grabbed the sides of his face, urgently pressing their lips together.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco could feel Harry pressing his body against his, deepening the kiss. Their teeth clacked against one another in a desperate attempt to get closer. Harry’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging them together as they stumbled through the doorway and into the living room, collapsing onto the couch in a pile of limbs. The kiss softened, and they were no longer urgently clawing at each other. Instead, their lips met in a subdued way, each touch more deliberate than the last.

Harry pulled back, panting as he traced his thumb against Draco’s cheek. “What was that? Not that I’m complaining. I just … wasn’t expecting it.”

Draco blushed, embarrassed. “I suppose I just didn’t want the night to end.”

Harry gave him a lopsided grin, gently pressing his lips to his. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment you came barging in with your broken wand, you git.”

“Really?” Draco asked, surprised.

Harry nodded. “Really. I think I’ve always had a thing for you, to be honest, but you were just such a berk in school.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Harry snorted. “Why did you do it? I mean.. did it have some great meaning to you? Or was it just spur of the moment? Am I making an absolute bloody fool of myself by telling you I’ve wanted this for a while?”

Draco shifted in his seat so that his head was resting on Harry’s chest, which was rapidly rising and falling. “No, you’re not making a fool out of yourself. I guess things have been different for me since we started our lessons, which I know was only a few days ago, but it’s like everything’s changed. I don’t know, Harry. The best way I can put it is that I feel like I’m touching light when I’m with you. It’s almost the same feeling I get when I cast lumos wandlessly. I’m warm all over. And tonight … I kept reminding myself that tonight would have to end, but I didn’t want it to. I just … I want to stay with you.”

Harry ran his hand through Draco’s hair. “You don’t have to go, Draco. Tonight doesn’t have to end.”

Draco looked up at him. “No?”

“No.”

They sat there, holding each other, for a long while, eventually drifting off into a soft sleep as the June sun rose gentle into the pale blue sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎵 This work is part of H/D Wireless, a song inspired, anon, Drarry fest with its home on tumblr! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, shower our content creators with all the love you have to give by leaving kudos ❤️ and comments 💌 on their work!
> 
> [Check out the fest tumblr to find even more works and daily updates!](http://hd-wireless.tumblr.com/)


End file.
